Wellington Avenue
by Son Of A Banana
Summary: Alison, direly desperate to end the god-awfully uncomfortable meeting, held out the plate of cookies in her hands and put on the most affable, dimple-faced smile her face would muster. She spoke with poise and confidence, watching the new family of three as she finally introduced,"Welcome to Wellington Avenue."
1. Pilot

**Disclaimer: I do not own PLL. After all these years though, I don't think I wanna own it. Applause to Marlene for owning the most chaotic show in the history of like, ever.**

 **So, this is a new story (obviously) but it will not be a one shot. It's been sitting around for a veeeeery long while (like, two years at least), but I finally wanted to post it. I hope this is a challenge for me, but mostly a wild story for you all. I'm gonna write this one out though, and see how it goes. And fair warning: There will be some pretty dark-themes throughout the story, and they may get graphic.**

 **Enjoy, lovelies.**

* * *

 _June 1st, 2018._

Birds preached melodies from their seated positions on the branches of trees, the sunlight pouring down through the summer leaves in rays of golden, heavenly streams. A white fence lined the neatly trimmed grass, blooms of orange and yellow pansies gathered at bottom of each white, wooden plank. Soft, indie music floated from the front window of the extensive, modern house as a glass of raspberry lemonade rested on the arm of a chic, pink and white lawn chair. The morning sun stretched high into the sky, reaching its burning arms down below to the surface and mixing with cool, midday air, creating the perfect temperature for the neighborhood to enjoy. Dogs barked, barbecues sizzled, music lingered, and the day glowed.

The loud, rough sound of a truck engine, though, suddenly broke the ongoing aesthetic. It crept over the horizon of the road, trudging its way down the smooth asphalt and coming to a slow halt right across the street.

Brownish-blonde, tousled hair flipped in the smooth breeze as a muscled, but lean young man stood up from his position on the lawn chair. He pulled down his Ray Ban sunglasses and squinted at the large vehicle on the other side of the road, looking for anyone else other than the four people, who he assumed to be the movers, hopping out of the truck.

Only a second later, a white Bentley pulled up behind the truck, a man, a woman, and a teenage girl stepping out of the car. The blonde boy pushed his sunglasses back onto the bridge of his nose but kept gazing at the movers, the man, the woman, and the girl who began to unpack boxes out of the truck and the white car.

"Get out of my seat, Jason."

Jason absentmindedly replied to the pushy, annoyed comment that came from behind him,"I'm not in your seat."

He felt a hand on his waist, and then he was being shoved to this side. Rolling his eyes, he put a hand on his hip and retorted,"Don't you see me standing up? Or has all that toxic dye seeped into your head?"

"I don't dye my hair, jockstrap. And correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't you the one who dyed his hair green once?"

Jason finally turned to the voice and frowned. "You know that was for a charity event, Alison, don't even try that. Like, really, did you come out here just to bother me, or...?"

"I _came out here_ to finish tanning, and I'd like to get back to that. So you can leave now."

Jason eyed the girl up and down; her golden hair only shimmered more as the sunlight hit her locks, as it was pulled up in a loose, messy bun. Her smooth face was clad in a pair of Tom Ford sunglasses. A gold necklace dropped around her neck and in between the dip of her chest, where her skin met a lacy, black bikini top that had a matching bikini bottom. The curves of her body were slender and soft, her light skin only spotted with sparse freckles here and there.

The blonde boy ignored the blunt dismissal and motioned to the movers across the street. "If you weren't so busy terrorizing me, you would've noticed that we have new neighbors."

Alison stepped next to Jason, pointing her eyes in the same direction he was looking at. Her eyes briefly glanced at the older man and woman, but locked on the slim, younger brunette girl carrying boxes into the bright, white house. Her walk was timid and her eyes were downcast, and everything about her already seemed awkward and enclosed. Her clothes were simple, nothing too lavish but not dull enough to make Alison gag. Her dark hair was pulled back in a simple, petite ponytail and she walked briskly from the car to the front door to the car again and to the front door again.

"She's got a nice ass," Jason lightly admired to himself. Alison immediately rolled her eyes and scoffed,"God, how the hell am I related to you? You're such a pig sometimes."

Jason retorted, throwing his head back as he laughed,"This _pig_ has three million followers on Instagram." He smoothed a hand over his shirtless torso, making it an effort to flex his well-defined abdomen at his vexed little sister. "People must really dig pigs nowadays, huh?"

Alison sat down and leaned back into her plastic lawn chair once again, her eyes still grazing over the new neighbors across the street. She then closed her eyes and leaned her head backwards with her nose pointed to the sky, and sighed,"Go away, Jason."

Her brother silently disappeared and she tried to focus on the mellow hum of the music and not the subtle background noise of boxes being unloaded from truck across the street.

* * *

It was only a bit after five in the afternoon. Alison now lounged on the black leather sofa in the middle of the spacious living room, her eyes focused on the screen of her iPhone. She'd changed into a pair of ripped denim shorts, and a flowing yellow tank top, and let her luminous blonde hair rain downwards now. She tapped repeatedly at her phone as she replied to a lengthy and rather bitter text from her best friend, Mona, who seemed to be at it again with her boyfriend, Mike.

An annoyed and rather selfish feeling engulfed Alison's chest; how didn't _she_ have a boyfriend yet? There were a few cute guys in the neighborhood she'd had her eye on, but none of them set off that spark she was supposed to feel; that feeling she'd only seen in the cheesy teenage movies, where she'd stutter and blush and her knees would buckle from left to right. But no matter the boy who approached her, the feeling seemed to never, _ever_ happen.

Of course, Alison DiLaurentis held herself to high standards; she was never one to go chasing after a boy. If anything, boys were the ones who chased after _her_. And she knew it wouldn't be long before the right guy with a dimpled smile, dreamy eyes, and pampered hair came along, and made her longing flush away. It was just a matter of patience and time.

"Patience and time," Alison quietly repeated to herself.

"Ali, honey."

Alison's head perked up at the sound of her mother's voice. "Yeah, mom?"

Her mother appeared in front of her, looking like the poster woman for the classic suburban wife, and holding what looked like a plate of cookies wrapped in colored plastic and a pink ribbon. She grinned down at her daughter, her facial features nearly identical to Alison's; her eyes were only a bit more grey than blue in color and a bit of age lined her face. Alison raised her eyebrows and questioned,"Who are those for?"

"Our new neighbors, and I need you to deliver them," Alison's mother beamed even brighter as she explained.

It had been less than four hours and of course, her mother was already eager to shower the new neighbors with homemade treats. If there was one word that Alison could best describe her mother with, it would forever be hospitable. The woman would practically jump at the thought of new neighbors to greet gifts with, dinner parties to organize for, and wine-tasting trips to venture on with her country club friends. The lavish life was her mother's daily breath of fresh air, and although it always warmed Alison's heart to see her mother smile, Alison's forced presence in these activities could sometimes be _so_ boring. Alison dramatically groaned and dropped her head backwards onto the arm of the sofa, whining,"Why can't Jason do it?"

"Because I saw that they have a daughter, and she looked like she might be the same age as you. She could be a new friend, you know."

Alison made a face at her mother and countered,"Or she could be a total weirdo. Remember that psycho-ginger girl, Leslie? And how she tried to steal my hair when she slept over? She literally almost cut my hair off, Mom. My _hair_."

"Well, that's why you don't speak to her anymore, right? But anyways, go on and give these to them," Mrs. DiLaurentis pushed the large plate into her daughter's reluctant hands,"And tell them it's a gift from their new neighbors, courtesy of the DiLaurentis family." Mrs. DiLaurentis pranced off with giggles and smiles before her daughter could protest any longer, and Alison let out a heavy, exaggerated sigh, slipping on her sandals. She didn't know how she had agreed to this, but then again, it's not like she could've resisted the brightness that always danced in her mother's eyes.

She pulled the front door shut behind her and stepped outside, staring across the road at the large, white house sitting so elegantly in the sunlight. It sat next to the row of houses that lined the road, each one haughty and boasting in appearance, much like the people who resided in each home. As she continued to stare at the home directly across the road, she began to reflect at how her family had always been so well off; always poised with elegance and manner when it came to living.

Jason actually was, despite Alison's constant teasing, a model; he was no Jay Alvarez, but he'd strutted down a couple of runways and taken his shirt off for blinding lights and sketchy photographers more than one would ever possibly like to. After graduating last year from the state's third best private school, colleges sent him recruitment letters up, down, right, and left, but he never went; a woman with dark lipstick and a denim-colored suit visited the house one day, offering him a modeling agency and several healthy paychecks attached to it. Since then, his green eyes always had knack for staying in the limelight. Alison never really knew what he did with all that money; she didn't really care either.

Alison, despite being graced with the good looks and the opportunity to model as well, never did. Her father deeply disapproved of cameras capturing every angle and crevice on her delicate body, so most of her time was consumed by shopping with Mona, tanning by the pool, and attending regal yet wild parties. Mom and Dad never really pressured her to get a job, seeming content with the thought of their only daughter becoming the poster woman for an HGTV housewife (which Alison swore on _eternity_ would never happen to someone like her) and so the world was at her wants' disposal. When she wasn't racking up a credit card debt though, that time would be spent with her precious mother.

Her mom, Jessica, had always been a bright, radiating soul inside and out, constantly cooking and cleaning and chatting it up with the neighbors and campaigning and donating and fundraising for any cause; she was the best stay-at-home mom that anyone could have asked for, and seeing Mrs. DiLaurentis would instantly make anybody grin. Her mother was the only person in the world who she could throw a tantrum at and immediately feel guilty about it, or come to crying about the tiniest pimple on her chin or worse-than-usual period cramps. All the love and purity that resided in the heavens was once personified into a woman, and Alison was sure that same day, Jessica DiLaurentis came floating down to Earth. And then there was her father, Kenneth DiLaurentis.

His grey face appearing in her mind instantly pushed her out of the golden era she believed she was living in. Not a smirk, not a laugh, nor a tear ever rose or fell on her father's face. Stone expressions with little to no change is what she ever saw. She'd only see him days at a time, if not weeks, where he would be home from a business trip, sipping black, tasteless coffee and looking down at illegible scribbles from his office files. She'd always encounter him in the kitchen, his face wrinkly and gloomy, and his eyes empty and hard. He'd greet her without looking up, in a small mutter,"Alison."

"Hi, dad," she'd always say back, and then they moved on. That was their routine, that was their only interaction, that was their relationship, and that was where they stood.

Alison had made it to the front door of the new neighbors' house by the time she had stopped reflecting. She wondered if this family would be snobs like the rest of the neighborhood (even though Alison could admit to being a bit of a snob herself) or if they would be the quiet, introverted family who would get rumors and whispers started up around the neighborhood. Alison remembered when a family once had sixty pounds of cocaine stashed inside of their garage, locked in a massive safe that nobody else bothered to question. A few weeks later, the police and a swat team showed up at their house, and the family was gone with the wind.

She gripped the plate of cookies and sighed, pressing the doorbell. A soft _ding-dong_ in the form of a tune chimed from inside of the house, and a few seconds later, a tan, short woman with beautiful, dark brown hair opened the door with a timid smile.

Alison forced a greeting smile onto her face and spoke,"Hey, we're from across the street. We saw that you just moved in and we wanted to give you a little housewarming gift. I'm Alison, Alison DiLaurentis."

The woman's smile bloomed brighter, taking the cookies from Alison's hands. "Thank you so much, Alison, I'm Pam Fields. Did you make these yourself?"

"My mom did, actually. Her name is Jessica DiLaurentis, and she's the taller and much more preppier version of me," Alison breezily explained. Like thin air, a man with dark brown, nearly black hair and a crinkling, cheerful face appeared behind Pam Fields, his smile possibly brighter than Alison's mom's (which was quite a bright smile.)

"Oh, Wayne, this is Alison. Her mother sent over some delicious cookies as a housewarming gift."

"Nice to meet you, Alison! I'm Wayne, but you can call me Mr. Fields," he said, firmly shaking the blonde's hand. Something about him immediately made Alison feel welcomed; the happiness in his eyes or the genuine curl of his smile, or the polite crinkles by the side of his eyes. "Oh, we should let you meet our daughter, Emily. Emily, come downstairs and meet our new neighbor, Alison!"

Alison stood there, growing more and more awkward as the husband and wife stood there with her, waiting for _Emily_ , guessing that it was the young, dark haired girl she'd seen moving boxes into the house earlier that day.

The sound of faint footsteps crept behind the couple, and they stepped back as the girl, Emily, appeared in the doorway. Alison's eyes studied her face as Emily's eyes were cast downwards, Alison noting the immediate shyness of this girl. Her dark hair glittered in the dusk sunset that was leisurely dipping below the horizon, and she eventually looked up and met eyes with Alison, the orange and red rays causing her brown orbs to sparkle and her skin to glow.

Alison's blue eyes studied her longer, and she watched the brunette haired girl silently struggle to get her words out, having to break the concealed posture she looked so accustomed to.

"Uh, hi, I'm Emily," her soft, timid voice matching her reserved looks. Alison tilted her head lightly with as she softly responded back,"I'm Alison. Nice to meet you."

A full minute passed, composed of making eye contact then breaking it within seconds, the awkwardness pouring heavily into every silent breath each girl took. Alison, direly desperate to end the god-awfully uncomfortable meeting, held out the plate of cookies in her hands and put on the most affable, dimple-faced smile her face would muster. She spoke with poise and confidence, watching the new family of three as she finally introduced,"Welcome to Wellington Avenue."

* * *

 **First chapter, done! I'm hoping this story is slightly different from what I've written before, especially with the wording and the dynamic and the characters and the plot and the visuals and just, the overall story as a whole, lol. This first chapter was just a little introductory-thing, the next chapter is going to open up to new things, new people, etc.** **Let me know how you guys feel about this story in a review. I want it to be different from what I've written in the past (as in, things different from constant, sexytime one-shots, lmao.)**

 **Thank you all so much for reading and any reviews, it means the world and more to me.  
** **(And watch PLL on April 18th x.)**


	2. Million Dollar Man

**Disclaimer: I don't own PLL. I really don't want to, lmao. I actually wrote this chapter a loooooong time ago, so long ago that this was my original A/N:** _ **After watching 6x17, I highkey don't want to own PLL to begin with. Marlene, from me and most likely all PLL fans, please get Alison a divorce and maybe a psych-test.** **Now that I'm done sulking, on to the chapter two. :)**_

 **I have a bad habit of taking years upon years to write stories. It's a shame, tbh. Anyways, here's chapter two.**

* * *

 _June 10th, 2018._

"Ali, do we have anymore gluten-free flour?" Mrs. DiLaurentis prodded within her mahogany cabinets, her nose pointed towards the sky as she searched for the ingredients to her chocolate waffle churros.

Alison, seated by the kitchen's carrara-top island with her pedicured-feet crossed, motioned to a random cabinet by the refrigerator and distractedly murmured back to her mother,"Yeah, I think there's some left in the cabinet or something."

Mrs. DiLaurentis, her hair tied in a bun and her short-sleeved dress covered in plaid-green, turned away from the cabinet and eyed her blonde daughter, raising her eyebrows and placing a hand on her apron-clad hip. "Alison, if you want to invite your friends to the barbecue, we're going to require actual _food_ to serve them as well. So, you need to put down that phone and help me prepare."

Alison threw her head back and squeezed her eyes shut, groaning in the most melodramatic tone,"Ugh, _moooooom_."

The mother slid the iPhone away from her daughter's hand and grasped her hand, pulling her towards the fridge and chiding,"Ah, no whining. We'll be done before four o'clock, then you can go back to your Facebooks and Twitters. Now, get the avocados and the bowl out and start peeling them."

The teenage blonde huffed and opened the large fridge, leaning over to retrieve the green fruit,"I was on Snapchat."

"Did you invite Emily and her family over for the barbecue?"

Alison shrugged and placed the avocados on the counter. "Not really. She doesn't seem much like the partying type, anyways."

"And you're basing this fact on the ten second meeting you had with her last week?"

Alison straightened out her white tank top and checked her nails, taking her position back by the island, making sure her mother didn't notice her hand creep her phone back into her possession. "Okay, I was over there for like, ten _minutes_ , and yes. I could barely hear her when she told me hi."

"Well then, lucky for you, I already invited her and her family over for the barbecue, and you _will_ talk to her. She just moved into the neighborhood, and she's probably going to need a friend to show her around the area. This barbecue will be a great setting for you and she to really get to know each other."

The blonde daughter tilted her head and puckered her lips at her phone as she tried to capture the perfect selfie, murmuring to her mother,"Why are you so determined to make me befriend this girl all of a sudden?"

Mrs. DiLaurentis snatched Alison's phone from her hands as she smiled and replied,"Because maybe she'll take _your_ mind off of _you_ for a change. Now, _peel_."

* * *

Jason sauntered out of the kitchen and placed a green bowl of guacamole on the front yard's table, where the rest of the delicately-prepared foods were prepped and ready to be served to every guest at the DiLaurentis summer kickoff barbecue. He smoothed his hands against his tropical-themed shirt, running his other hand through his voluminous, shiny blonde locks and using his index finger to raise his Ray Bans back onto the bridge of his sculpted nose. He then smoothed his palms down his white Stanton shorts, his lips curving into a boasting smirk as one of the female neighbors slithered by and smiled back.

"Could you maybe help me bring the rest of the drinks out? Or is that too much effort for your delicate model-body to handle?"

The pervy smile on Jason's face instantly fell flat, his shoulders dropping as he turned to his blonde sister. "Why are you always so quick to interrogate me?"

With a sleeveless, flowing peach top that was stringed and open in the back, showing off the scarce but sunkissed freckles on her shoulder blades, and ripped, lightwashed denim shorts and Givenchy-clad feet, Alison squinted her eyes underneath her Dior sunglasses and sneered,"I ask you to bring out a glass of limeade and I'm _interrogating_ you?"

Jason felt his left eye twitch as he scoffed back,"You're literally holding one cup, Alison. _One_."

The blonde girl lifted her cup-less and freshly-manicured hand, vigorously waving it in her brother's face. "See this? I just got them done and I'm not ruining them."

Jason could only laugh in disbelief, pushing his glasses atop his head and staring wildly at his sister. " _You_ call _me_ delicate? But you—"

"Jason, Alison." An exasperated sigh left both siblings' mouths as their mother came up behind them with a hand on her hip and a motherly eyebrow raised in soft but stern warning. "Absolutely _no_ bickering from you two today. Go talk to your friends, go flirt with your neighbors, but no fighting. _None_."

"I'm fine with that," Jason chirps, turning on the heel of his leather sandal and immediately eyeing down the brunette girl he was previously ogling, the licentious smile on his face falling flat again as his mother held him by the shoulder. "Ah— Not before you bring the rest of that limeade out."

A heavy sigh flowed from Jason's mouth, and he grumbled a series of sulks as he headed back into the house, leaving Alison to locate her best friend through the growing crowd of her wealthy, well-dressed neighbors in her front yard. The glowing blonde peered over the rims of her sunglasses, knowing that Mona was bound to be the best dressed among these high-class doppelgangers. She sipped from the straw sticking from the limeade glass in her hand and placed her other careful hand on her hip; the brunette had texted her only a couple minutes ago, and she was only five blocks away. She _should've_ been here by now.

"Look who got their early-bird tan this year." The compliment hit Alison's ears and instantly made the blonde smirk, twisting around to see her best friend. They leaned in and shared an air kiss, Alison pulling back and noticing the lack of male company on Mona's arm. "Where's Mike? I thought you said he was coming with you."

Mona rolled her glittery brown eyes, sighing,"We were still fighting in the car and he told me he'd be out here in a minute."

They'd been bickering a lot more of the late, and it only confused and wore Alison out, having to deal with Mona's hour-long rants on the phone about how Mike ' _was being a freakin' jerk lately and he_ _could do so much better as a boyfriend_.' The blonde lowered her voice and put a mock-sympathetic hand on Mona's shoulder. "You guys have been fighting a lot lately. Is it getting rusty in the bedroom department?"

Mona flicked Alison's hand away. "Shut up, bitch. And ... I don't know. Lately it just seems like he's just... distracted. And he won't tell me why."

Together, they watched the growing amount of guests file into the DiLaurentis front yard, grinning and clanking drinks in their designer sunglasses and slightly-sweaty skin. Alison suggested,"Maybe you two need a break? Being together for so long can be claustrophobic in a way."

The slightest bit of dread made its way into Mona's voice as she responded,"That's the last thing I want."

Mona quickly changed the subject as she laid glittery, judgmental eyes on someone unfamiliar making their way into the crowd. "Who's the new girl?"

"The hottest new bombshell in Wellington," Jason casually added, passing by with a tray of glasses filled with limeade. Alison resisted the intense, fiery urge to physically and verbally harm her brother in front of Mona, opting for a better, nonchalant response. "Jason, go away."

He shrugged as he walked away. "Buuuuut I'm right though."

"She seems..." Mona trailed off, letting her assumptuous silence linger in her sentence. "Different."

Alison pursed her lips and trailed her eyes over the brunette girl's moving figure, letting out a snide,"Different as in I haven't gone shopping in two years, or different as in I lack the ability to speak like a normal human being? Because if so, yes, she is very different."

Mona guffawed as her face wrinkled into pity, holding Alison's shoulder as she doubled over. "God, Ali, she just got here. At least her give her a chance to prove she's a loser before you assume that. What's her name, anyway?"

The familiar brown eyes, the dark hair, and the smooth cheekbones filled Alison's head as she continued to stare down the new girl from afar. "Emily."

* * *

Jason tilted his chiseled head to the side, surveying the platinum-faced babes scattered out amongst the DiLaurentis front lawn. He bit his lip; CeCe Drake was looking so very delicious in her angel-white two piece, and those shiny blonde curls swayed in the sunlight, all the way down her California-tanned legs to the supple curve of her toned and bubbly ass. His gaze lingered on her bottom for a few more moments, before trailing upwards to her scantily-clad bosom; her boobs were perky and pretty and Jason didn't mind that view one bit.

CeCe caught his stare, and he couldn't tell if she pitied or admired in him in the smile she threw to him from across the lawn. He only smirked back, tucking a dirty-blonde strand behind his ear. Despite the fact that he despised Alison's prissy-playlist currently playing, he hummed to the sunny lyrics floating in the air. _One for the money... two for the show... I love you honey, I'm ready, I'm ready to go._ _How did you get that way? I don't know..._

"Excuse me—" The soft words hadn't reached his horny ears quick enough, and the silver tray Jason had forgotten he was holding accidentally tilted to the ground, sending three glasses of lukewarm limeade spilling onto a girl's shirt.

"Oh, shit. Shit, _shit_. I am so, so sorry," Jason immediately fumbled for the glasses in the grass, spitting out quick apologies to the girl he hadn't even bothered to make eye contact with yet. "I didn't even see you there, God, I am so sorry. Can I get you a towel?" He pulled his gaze upwards and his words failed on his lips, seeing that it was the new girl who'd moved across the street just earlier that week.

"Emma, right?" He straightened out his posture and his dimples broke out as he gave her an apologetic smile with underhanded flirtation swirling in his sparkling green eyes. "I am seriously so sorry, I'm honestly such a goof in super hot weather. Let me show you to the kitchen, we've got some napkins in there. Maybe I can get you a clean shirt?"

"It's," she cleared her throat and restarted her sentence a little louder, trying to ignore the judgmental eyes all over her wet polo shirt and stressed expression. "It's Emily. And uh, that's okay. I think I know where it is, actually." She gripped her hands into balls, nails digging into her palms and ignoring the anxious pressure that was rapidly clawing at her chest. She stepped pass this blonde-boy and hurriedly made her way past the rich, guffawing guests, trying hard to tell her mind that they weren't laughing at her.

She lied to that dirty-blonde boy; she didn't know where the bathroom was. In fact, she'd never seen anything beyond the white fence and freshly manicured grass outside. When she crept into the house, her eyes dilated with unease; everything was big and shiny, far too luxurious for the sake of humanity. A chandelier hung above her head, reflecting glittering sun-speckles on the thick white walls around her. The air smelled of flowers and lemon squares. She'd be lucky if she could find the exit after venturing into here.

She sighed. Napkins. That's all she needed to get, and then she could wipe off her shirt, push her way through these Purge-looking beings, walk straight across the street and be in her room and under her blankets within one minute.

She crept around the corner, following the polished-wooden floor until she spotted an island. There, a roll of napkins sat, taunting her with its distance. She took the first step, ready to dry this tasteless, green liquid off herself—

"Dammit, Jessica, what the _hell_ is wrong with you?"

Emily's body instantly took a step backwards, firmly planting herself in the nearest, darkest corner she could find. She was right next to some old Nikes and a dog-leash, and her heart began to hit hard and heavy as the voice boomed out again, this time closer. Her breath matched her mind and paused in fear.

A woman's voice, or rather Jessica's voice shakily broke out, yet Emily numbly listened as she tried to reinforce the firmness in her trembling voice,"Kenneth, do _not_ speak to me like this. I am your wife and you will treat me as such. Don't you dare use such a condescending tone of voice with your equal, _not_ in this house. And there are almost hundreds guests outside by now, you know this isn't the rig—"

Kenneth's voice lowered an octave and he spat back,"I don't give a _damn_ about the guests, Jessica. Who the hell do you think I am? Huh? Don't you know how to keep your mouth shut when you're around those female counterparts? Or have you become too incompetent over the last few years?"

Emily's stomach churned as her ears unwillingly listened on; she'd never even seen this man but he had already become one of the worst humans on earth.

"Kenneth, please. Don't do this right now."

She heard intimidating footsteps stomping across the marble floor. The sound of silverware then rattled as something slammed on the table. "There is absolutely no reason for you to be parading around that yard, shoveling out our personal business. _My_ personal business, in fact. Do you think I won't find out what goes on, Jessica? Have you not lived in Wellington long enough to know that I control _every_ crevice of this city?"

"Kenneth," Jessica pleaded. Emily heard her gentle footsteps shuffling away from the Kenneth's voice; she closed her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek and she hoped to God this wouldn't escalate.

"You know what?" This man's voice huffed, and then Emily heard it.

The sharp rip of skin hitting skin that echoed in the kitchen. Emily flinched hard, and her eyes immediately welt up with hot liquid as her breath didn't dare to escape her dry mouth. "You watch your mouth next time, Jessica. Look at me," he growled. Emily heard a strangled whimper and a lonely tear slipped itself out of the corner of her eye. "I said fucking _look_ at me, Jessica. Don't ever disrespect me on my fucking property, do you understand?"

 _Slap._ "Look at me, Jessica. Why aren't you looking at me?"

 _Bam_. "Fucking _look_ at me, woman."

 _Bang_. Emily's hand balled into tight knots, her body heavily shaking and incapacitated against the dark, sullen corner she was hiding in.

He spat again, louder and louder. "I paid for this house, I paid for the cars, I paid for the clothes on your back, I buy you whatever you, Jason, and Alison want. And I love you, Jessica, but I _own_ you. You are _nothing_ without me, and you better remember these words the next time you ever doubt it."

" _Okay_ , Ken, okay. Jesus, okay," Jessica brokenly seethed back. Emily almost could hear the tears rushing down her cheeks and she couldn't help her own, wanting to just run the hell away from this grotesque scenario unfolding behind the wall.

Shit, shit, _shit._ Emily had to leave _now_. She had to get the hell out of this house before she got sick to her stomach all over that pair of Nikes. She waited until the heavy footsteps faded into the abyss, and she pressed her arms and legs against the wall, sliding back towards the exit until she gripped the golden doorknob and silently inched back into the sunshine. Her limbs trembled and she let out several labored breaths as her eyes adjusted to the blaring sun.

"Hey, um, Emily? Right?"

Emily flinched hard to the right, her skin crawling in the hot sun and her racing heart still threatening to spill out of her closed throat. Her eyes roamed up and down until they met a face; it wasn't the blonde boy this time, but the blonde girl from last week with the regal-sounding last name, Alison DiLaurentis. Her demeanor seemed slightly repelling and there was a fragile hint of an underlying scowl as she spoke,"Jason said you needed some napkins or whatever. Our house is kind of huge, so I thought you might've gotten lost or..."

Alison paused midway, screwing her well-done eyebrows together and narrowing her watery blue eyes at Emily. "Are you okay? You look really pale."

Emily parted her lips to incoherently speak,"I, um..."

"Alison." The burly voice registered in Emily's mind and her body prickled up once again; she knew that voice. She turned and saw a tall, grey-haired man approaching the blonde girl in front of her. He slid a hand onto Alison's shoulder, and Emily watched him peer over her body before giving her a wrinkly-grin.

"Who's your friend?"

Alison side-eyed Emily for half a second and then pursed her hot pink lips together. "This is Emily, she just moved in like, a week ago. Emily," Emily's heart clutched the bottom of her throat once again and her stomach sank into her feet as her blurry mind began to make to ungodly connections,"This is my dad."

"Nice to meet you, Emily. I'm Kenneth."

 _"Kenneth, please. Don't do this right now."_ Was that the Kenneth that Emily was seeing? The one Emily was standing less than two feet away from? _Kenneth?_ No, God, no. No, _fuck_ no.

"Are you okay, sweetheart? You look a bit sick right now. You don't need some water, do you?" Kenneth cooed at her, putting a veined, sun-spotted hand on Emily's frail shoulder. Her eyes unintentionally drifted to the left and stared at the hand, and as soon as she saw the film of blood barely sprinkled on his knuckles, Emily's body acted on itself.

She opened her mouth once, and out rained her indigested contents all over Alison DiLaurentis' sandals and all over the DiLaurentis' fresh, green grass.

* * *

 **Well, well, well. Look's like we've got a gross, disgusting asshole on our hands, folks. But will his karma play out? Will Alison find out her dad's a nasty dingbat? Will Emily replace Alison's four-hundred dollar Givenchy flip flops? We shall see.**

 **Thank you guys so, so much for the awesome reviews on the first chapter. It's been a long while since I did a multi-chapter fic and all the love from you guys makes writing this so much more fun. I really and truly appreciate all the words to the moon and back.**

 **(Also, Sasha and Shay are making a cooking video together and I couldn't be more shook. WHAT A WONDERFUL MONTH.)**

 **(#emison)**


	3. Music To Watch Boys To

**This still exists, I promise.**

* * *

 _June 11th, 2018._

Emily stared at the ceiling of her bedroom.

Kenneth DiLaurentis was physically abusing his wife.

Kenneth was Alison's dad.

She threw up on Alison DiLaurentis' feet.

Her eyes continued to numbly bore into the prickly-looking plaster above her head as her chest was aching in the most awful of ways. How she had managed to completely screw up everything in the neighborhood for herself and simultaneously listen in on the most gruesome act of of violence this world could throw at her was perplexing her grey, cloudy mind. She couldn't keep a secret so vile to herself. She could not let the screams loop in her head until they started making her dizzy again.

Her parents were her first option; yesterday, they'd quietly excused themselves away from the DiLaurentis party once they'd noticed their daughter push past them, murmuring a quiet _I have to go_ , hands vibrating before she fled across the street into her empty home. Her mother arrived seconds later and prodded and slid her hands on Emily's face, asking what had happened and feeling for a non-existent fever, and Emily only nodded away from her grasp and retreated to her dark room.

Even though her vision had been blurred and doubled, the blonde's expression from yesterday was still vividly rolling in her head. The look on Alison's face had been... _terrifying_. It was a mixture of nausea, horror and pure, white rage all seeping out of the blonde's icy, blue irises. And God, Emily couldn't even recall the thought without cringing to the point of whiplash. Alison seethed out a loud ' _What the hell is your problem? Oh my GOD'_ and was bouncing up and down in her designer sandals, attempting to quickly kick them off but only succeeding in further spreading Emily's mess all over the grass. The feeling of that memory was equivalent to having her head dunked and held underwater, just over and over again.

The water had been blazing in her shower yesterday night. Steam rose high into the numb space, nearly covering the view in front of her as her arms were wrapped around her bare knees. She sat under the hot drops of liquid heat and listening to the static of the running water above her head. She grit her teeth as the tears forcefully pushed out of her eyes for the second time that day, and her throat tightening up as she tried to keep her sobs to a minimum, even under the static of the shower. She couldn't decide what she was crying over at that moment; that poor woman who Emily had the unplanned displeasure of hearing in on or the excruciating embarrassment she'd suffered in a matter of twenty-four hours. But it all kept replaying in her head and God, right now she wished she could make it stop.

Three knocks sounded out into the room. "Emmy, are you awake? Can I come in?"

Her brown eyes drifted towards her door and her tense posture softened at the sound of her father's gentle voice.

"Yeah," Emily rasped. She cleared her throat and sat up, not bothering to brush a hand through her oily hair.

Her dad, in her personal opinion, was a giant teddy bear. When it came to his emotions, he had no trouble expressing them whether they were sunny or sullen. And everytime he spoke to her, there was nothing but the best for her in his voice. He shut the door behind him, Emily looking away from his concerned gaze as he settled next to her on the bed.

"How you are feeling, sweetheart? I know yesterday was pretty rough."

Emily closed her eyes and shook her head, trying not to let the loops start up again. She sighed,"I'm okay."

Wayne shook his head full of shiny, identical hair at his daughter with a knowing smile. "You and I know that's not true."

Emily quirked her mouth to the side and looked at her dad, then looked away again. The knot in her throat was returning rather quickly and she tried her best to swallow it. "I'm... I feel so stupid right now."

He instinctively put an arm around Emily at the crack in her voice and pulled her into his side, rubbing his hand over her arm as she sank into his grasp. "It's not your fault, honey. There's just some things you can't avoid, and that time happened to be one of them. But embarrassing yourself in front of all those people, that doesn't change who you are. You know that, right?" Emily nodded. "You're my Emmy. You're one of the most generous, caring people I've ever met. Especially for a seventeen year old girl. If there's one thing I know about you, you're strong. You're motivated and you're focused, you're basically like... a pitbull. A pitbull with oddly humanistic features."

Emily lips quirked to the side at the sound of the bad joke, a smile attempting to bloom on her face. "You're a Fields. You won't let something silly like this bring you down."

He rubbed her arm again as she nodded, her heart feeling less and less like a sinking burden in her chest. "You've got your whole entire life ahead of you. This little setback won't mean much at the end of the day, and I promise you that. Okay?" Emily nodded against his shoulder again, her voice still too weak to respond.

"I made scalloped potatoes and salisbury steak for dinner, if you wanna come down." Wayne squeezed her tight to the point that it nearly hurt, but it felt warm and secure in Emily's chest and that's all she wanted. He kissed her forehead and left her to continue staring at the ceiling with a now slightly less numb feeling in her chest.

* * *

A boulder sat in the bottom of Emily's stomach as she stepped outside into the blaring sunlight. Her pupils constricted and she squinted her eyes, eyes focusing on the DiLaurentis front door across the street.

She rationed with herself for nearly four hours, twiddling her fingers as she tried to figure out what to do first. She settled on apologizing to Alison first.

It was nearly eighty degrees outside and Emily's body was registering it before her mind could even begin to soak it in. The sweat caused by the sun would be the least of her worries in less than ten minutes, though; how on Earth was she going to face _her_ again. Would she even be able to make eye contact with the tarnished front lawn again, let alone the frame of the prestigious house before her limbs would start vibrating with the need to flee, and her stomach would churn in circles replaying the loops in her head?

No, no. She couldn't do this. Alison would likely throw her vomit-soaked sandals in her face, slam the door, and file a court order to get Emily's house torn down.

She'd seen what flames Alison held in her eyes, and Emily had narrowly escaped before they started burning her self-esteem down. But her dad was right; it was only a little setback. It was better to apologize and try to rebuild a slightly civil, likely-to-be one-sided relationship with her new neighbors. She knew through the screaming fear in her head, there'd be less tension from across the street if she just got it over with now and let Alison know that she was genuinely sorry.

Her left foot moved off the first cement step from her driveway. She could feel her toes sticking to the plastic material of her sandals, casually reminding her that she was willingly about to walk across the street and face the girl she threw up on a day ago. There was a hazy ringing in her ears, the sound that one heard only when the air was barren and scalding. She couldn't tell if it was squirrels and birds screaming for water or her brain screaming at her to turn around and save herself from making a second mistake.

The DiLaurentis house sat tall and prideful as ever, the paint and windows seemingly having a new coat and gloss every time Emily so much as glanced at it. She wondered what Alison's parents did, how they were so well off. Was that tall, disgusting monster of a human always at home with them, or did he spend his time in private jets and golf courses, veins protruding from his skull as he screamed at his newest assistant.

"Emily?"

Through her screaming subconscious, Emily's body had somehow dragged across the street onto the sidewalk that lay just before the DiLaurentis home. Her mind was ringing too profusely to process anything other than damp, sticky palms and the aching in her chest. Her fluttering eyes followed the deep, raspy voice and she found a shirtless Jason. There was music coming from somewhere, full of pentatonics and barred frets that seemed to only highlight Jason's personality. The subtle flirting from yesterday and the even tan that lingered on his half-clothed body led Emily to now assume he was a slightly vain, bro-fist kind of guy. The kind who's looks were always first with their logical thinking being last.

As he leaned up to retrieve his basketball from the ground and began to stride in her direction, Emily honestly couldn't blame him for his vanity. The outlines of his abdomen had been clearly worked on over months to perfect a crisp, yet lean six pack. His locks just almost matched that of his sister's; golden hair that outshined the sun's everlasting rays, but with a bit of dark brown strands pouring here and there from the roots. Though his jaw was rounded sharp and his chest was lined with a lot of muscle and a bit of sweat, and his expression held a softer gaze. His lips were more pink than Emily had ever seen any boy's lips be, and his eyes... they were so, so green. His irises winded deep through a summer forest on a partly cloudy day, almost identical to the color of the grass beneath them. Emily decided at that moment that Jason's eyes had to be the most peaceful looking amongst the DiLaurentis family.

"Soooo, about yesterday..." He began with empathy in his tone but a smirk on his face. Emily shook her head to stop his sentence with a half-smile, half-frown, her eyes dragging downwards as she hoped the hot concrete would swallow her.

She forced her chin up again, swallowing the knots that were clogging up her throat. "It's fine. I'm just... really, really sorry about yesterday. To you and your sister and your dad. I didn't really plan on ruining the first party I've ever been to in this neighborhood. I'm honestly just really, really sorry."

Jason tilted his head off to the side and shrugged,"Hey, don't even stress about it. If it makes you feel any better, when I was on a date with this British girl once, I straight up hurled on her lap after I ate three hot dogs before we left. She kicked me in my nuts and called me a greasy ape."

The quiet laugh that escaped Emily was unprompted and genuine; Jason was sweet. Maybe a bit too wonderlusted on the thought of girls, but still sweet. Emily felt a bit (but only just a bit) more calm now as she spoke,"Thanks. Is um, your sister possibly around?"

"She's around, but do you really wanna talk to her after yesterday?"

Emily asked herself that, too. Did she really, really want to face hell itself in the form a luxurious, blonde teenage girl who'd she threw up on? Was it worth likely getting shoved in the chest and demeaned to an extent that she'd never even imagined? Did she genuinely want to revisit the mental anguish Alison DiLaurentis had partially brought on? Was it even worth leaving the comfort and security of her bedroom today?

"That look on your face says probably not," Jason chimed in. Emily only smiled back, twiddling her fingers in between her thumbs and currently hating herself for being _so damn awkward_ in front of Jason.

She sighed,"Yeah, not really. She's just... a little intimidating."

Jason scoffed,"More like totally intolerable. Even after we washed off her stupid shoes last night, she was still screaming about it, and this morning too. I ended up just coming out here because I like, couldn't deal with it."

Emily felt her chest pang; was Alison really _that_ mad about her shoes, even until this morning? Then again, Emily recalled that they did look really, _really_ expensive. More than anything she could ever possibly afford. God, she didn't mean to ruin everything so quickly with her new neighbors, the ones who brought her cookies and welcomed them in the warmest way. But it was only a day later and she had already tarnished relationships before they had even began. The world around her seemed to start to double again as her head felt bubbly and on the brink of dimming out to darkness.

"Emily," Jason softly spoke. Emily felt his hand on her shoulder and ... woah. Despite the somewhat flustering fact that a boy was actually touching her, she felt herself wandering towards a sense of serenity and forgiveness in his shiny, verdant eyes and low, gentle voice. "Hey, honestly, like I said, don't worry about it. She's probably got like, a hundred pairs of different shoes and something else will definitely piss her off within the next week. It's no big deal and I promise she'll get it over it soon. Don't beat yourself up about it, alright?"

Her heart beat with steady comfort now; maybe it wasn't as bad she thought after all. And Jason... maybe he was just the kind of friend that Emily needed in this godforsaken neighborhood. She nodded in affirmation at the blonde boy, letting out a quiet but gracious,"I really appreciate that."

"I'm really glad you do."

Jason removed his hand from her shoulder but remained close to Emily, bouncing his basketball against the pavement. "We're having a party tomorrow night."

Emily visibly cringed at the thought of being surrounded by people again, but Jason interrupted her. "It's gonna be fun. No lame ass adults, just good music and lots of my friends. And Ali hates pretty much all of my friends so she's probably not going to be there. And I'd be there with you the whole time, too."

She silently contemplated it. Despite her bouts of flourishing social anxiety, it was a chance at quick redemption with the neighborhood, and even if Alison did end up being there, Emily could talk to her and apologize. Jason seemed like he would stay true to his word as well, and all these considerations made Emily fell less apprehensive.

"Starts at eight and ends 'till whenever the cops show up." Jason backtracked as he watched Emily's demeanor fall,"Kidding, I'm kidding, Emily. You're killing me here."

Emily giggled for the first time that day, watching Jason miss his shot into the basketball goal. "So I'll see you there?" He breathed.

This would probably be one of her only chances to properly make friends, properly apologize to Alison, and maybe even enjoy herself for the first time in Wellington. For the first time in a very long time, even.

She nodded. "Yeah, I'll be there."

Jason's grin was wide and bright and boasting with achievement. "Awesome. I can't wait to see you there."

Emily walked backwards away from the DiLaurentis home, her smile confident and beaming and her heart fluttering with happiness. "I'll definitely be there," she repeated, waving to Jason as she turned on her heel to head home.

The sun poured on her skin with a welcoming feeling and her emotions matched the golden rays and the chirping baby birds and the silken feel of security around her. Everything felt at bay, twisting the knob to enter her house. She glanced over her shoulder at the DiLaurentis home one more time, Jason still eyeing her from a distance. He gave her a salute and Emily smiled and waved to him again, completely unaware of a scrutinizing Alison DiLaurentis peering sharply at her through the window's blinds. A petty taste settled in Alison's mouth as she watched her moronic brother visibly swoon over that Emily girl.

Alison eyes narrowed and her lips formed an ill willed snare. Puking on her shoes and then hitting on her brother? Alright, bitch. Revenge is easy, but pettiness is easier.

* * *

 **Man, oh man. Alison's out for blood, Jason's getting a little too comfortable with Emily, and poor Emily seems like she's too caught up in the heat of being an anxious, socially-starved teenager that she's forgotten all about Kenneth DiLaurentis lurking around Wellington, being a disgusting psychopath. Boy, oh boy.**

 **What will happen at the party tomorrow? Will the cops come? Will Alison fight Emily at the party? Will I finish this story? All these pressing questions with floating answers. Tune in next week on Buzzfeed Unsolved to find out.**

 **Any reviews are greatly and personally appreciated, I really like reading your feedback and letting me know what you guys want to see/think will happen. Thank you guys for reading, now I'm off to write about sex on a golf course.**

 **Also, someone tell Sasha and Shay to talk to each other before I lose my fucking mind. (#emison)**


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